The Face Behind
by Ebenbild
Summary: "'Evil' is a strong word," Hermione replied to Harry's accusation of Snape in their sixth year. Harry might not belief her, but unlike him, Hermione has an unusual outlook when it comes to the dour potions master who wanders through the halls of Hogwarts. Could be canon or not.


_**Disclaimer**_ _: I'm too young to be Rowling so there is sadly no way Harry Potter is mine…_

 _ **Placing:**_ _Seventh_ _year_ _._

xXxXxXxXxXxNapxXxXxXxTimexXxXxXxXxTimexXxXxXxXxNapxXxXxXxXxXxXx

sSsSsSsSs

 _ **THE FACE BEHIND**_

sSs

"'Evil' is a strong word," said Hermione quietly.

sSs

The first time they met, she was still a young and impressionable girl.

"Hermione," her mother said, combing through her bushy locks. "Your father and I will stay here and talk a little bit more with your professor, but she said that Diagon Alley is safe, so if you want to, you can look around, alright? Just don't go too far, will you, Princess?"

"Of course, Mum," Hermione had replied and then she had wandered off, looking at the windows of different shops while she went.

She was deeply involved in studying the mechanics of a particular by magic animated little blood hound, when she suddenly was spoken to from her right.

"Hey, girl," a woman's voice said. "Little girl, just look up for a moment!"

Hermione frowned and turned around to see who was speaking with her – and the next she knew was _him_ , standing over her and defending her.

Hermione Granger had always been a curious child, so looking up and questioning who was actually talking to her was nothing new. But unlike the muggle world, Hermione was new to the wizarding one and because of that easy to trap in spells she had never heard of or learned about.

It would be a shock for the eleven-year-old to find out that there were people in the magical word who would trap a defenseless young girl like her in their thrall.

And it would only be because of _him_ , that Hermione would walk away free from this experience.

"Miss," he said, his eyes black and dead and creepy in his emotionless face. "Maybe you should endeavour to keep your distance to Knockturn Alley if guarding yourself is such an impossible task to take on for you."

Maybe, Hermione would muse years later, this was the day she crushed a little on the dour man with the sharp tongue who had just saved her life.

sSs

" _It's Snape! I know it!"_

" _Harry, Snape and a few other teachers are guarding the stone!"_

sSs

When she finally went to Hogwarts, she was looking forward to many things.

She was looking forward to learning magic.

She was looking forward to having friends.

She was looking forward a new world and lots of adventures.

In the end she would get everything of that and more – but at the start, she got something else instead of what she had hoped for first.

She was friendless.

There were no adventures but bullying.

And she was alone.

Then potion's class came and she saw _him_ again. And like the child she was, she wanted to impress him with her knowledge. What she got in the end was something else entirely.

"I don't know," Harry said. "But Hermione knows…"

And his unfathomable eyes met hers throughout the classroom, cold, and dead and so like back then in the alley.

"Sit down!" He told her harshly and she deflated on her chair.

He didn't tell her off for her behaviour, but his eyes told their own story for her.

 _Insufferable know-it-all_ , they said.

 _Idiotic child_ , they told her. And she lowered her head and refused to look into those dead eyes again.

Yet, at the end of the year, she stumbled upon a book about Victorian Flower language and she started to wonder.

"Potter," he had said back then. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Back then, she had believed the answer 'The Draught of Living Death'.

Back then, she had interpreted the question the easiest way she could – but that was back then, back before the question was laden with the exclamation 'I bitterly regret Lily's death' spoken in Victorian flower language.

And suddenly, she wondered, like she had wondered before – the question of 'why?' disrupting her sleep.

sSs

" _That is the second time you have spoken out of turn, Miss Granger… Five more points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know-it-all."_

sSs

The second time he saved her, she bathed in the touch of his fingers as long as it lasted.

She had been petrified, one of the victims of the basilisk.

She had been lying there on the bed, unable to move, unable to speak, unable to do anything but to suffer in her body of stone, her mind still reeling with the knowledge that she would be dead and not petrified if she hadn't used the mirror.

Back then, the adults had just put her onto the bed, never thinking about the fact, that she might still be aware. Never trying to reassure her, never trying to calm her.

Back then she longed for her parents.

What she got was him instead.

Every night after his rounds throughout the school he would come by, check on all of them and hum a soft tune until Hermione fell asleep, still imprisoned in her stone-like body.

It was a hard battle to fight.

Being aware without being able to give any indications that you were.

And then, finally, _he_ came and pulled her out of her misery.

His hands were soft and warm and caring when he lifted her head and helped her to swallow the potion.

"Slowly, Miss Granger," he said. "This is not like the books you consume. This has to be measured carefully – something that you might want to learn for your consummation of books as well if you want to get somewhere in life."

And maybe, this was the time her little crush – temporally disabled thanks to her crush on Gilderoy Lockhard – returned to what it had been before.

sSs

" _Give me a reason. Give me a reason to do it and I swear I will."_

sSs

In third year, he was as harsh as ever – or even harsher to her.

"That is the second time you have spoken out of turn, Miss Granger…" He said. "Five more points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know-it-all."

"You asked us a question and she knows the answer! Why ask if you don't want to be told?" Ron objected on her behalf while she was again deflating on her seat in defeat.

His black, cold eyes met hers over the distance, and he replied to the boy while ignoring the question: "Detention, Weasley… and if I ever hear you criticize the way I teach a class again, you will be very sorry indeed."

And yet, his black eyes never left her face, his face emotionless and cold.

And when later in the year, Black kidnapped Ron and she and Harry followed, he followed them as well.

"Give me one reason," he said to the man who was her best friend's godfather. "Give me a reason to do it and I swear I will."

She could see the hatred in his eyes at those words – but then, he hated Harry as well and yet, he had come to get them.

It hurt her deeply when she send him flying, since she at least understood that he came to defend his students – like he had defended her so long ago.

And when the moon turned Remus Lupin he was there again, standing in front of them, shielding them with his body.

She could feel his hand touching her shoulder tremble, she could see the slight sheen on his forehead and she could feel the trembling of his body in front of her when he was confronted by one of his worst fears – and yet, here he was: Standing in front of them, shielding.

And she admired him for that.

sSs

" _You might be laboring under the delusion that the entire wizarding world is impressed with you, but I don't care how many times your picture appears in the papers. To me, Potter, you are nothing but a nasty little boy who considers rules to be beneath him."_

sSs

In forth year, they were back to the old spiel.

He belittled them.

He insulted them.

He hated Harry with compassion and Hermione and Ron by association.

And yet, when she sat there, crying on the stairs after her row with Ron and Harry, left alone by everyone else, it was _he_ who consoled her.

"Granger," he said when he saw her sitting on the stairs. "Shouldn't you be dancing with the rest of the dunderheads?"

She sobbed as a reply and buried her head in her arms.

For a moment, there was silence, then a simple white handkerchief was handed to her.

She stared at it in confusion.

"It's a handkerchief," he sneered. "You use it to wipe your nose or face, Granger."

She blinked in surprise at her professor, but took the item anyway.

"Thank you," she said while wiping her tears.

He just raised an eyebrow at that.

"Seems like hanging around with oafs has yet to affect you, Granger," he replied. "Maybe you should find some decent company before it's too late for you."

And she couldn't help but snort at that exclamation.

"I think it might already be too late for that, sir," she said.

He inclined his head.

"Regretfully I believe you might be right, Miss Granger," he said. "Nevertheless, it could not hurt to at least try to lessen their influence."

"I will think about it, Professor," she said, already feeling better.

He just inclined his head again.

"Do it soon, Miss Granger," he said. "It would be a tragedy, if you don't. You might even get used to their inherited inability to even mention that you look quite remarkable less like the usual know-it-all tonight."

"I guess I should thank you for the compliment, Professor," Hermione replied a little bit sarcastically, while again wiping her face. "It was appreciated."

He just nodded once, then his warm hand touched her head lightly before he left her to hide away in his dungeons.

And Hermione wondered if there wasn't more to him than what you could see.

sSs

" _How many times have you suspected Snape, and when have you ever been right? Dumbledore trusts him, he works for the Order, that ought to be enough."_

sSs

In fifth year she finally learned that part of his shown character had to be a mask.

He was a spy, a spy for the light – and she at least trusted him to truly work for the right side; even if it meant that she was the only one.

"Shut up, Ron," said Hermione angrily. "How many times have you suspected Snape, and when have you ever been right? Dumbledore trusts him, he works for the Order, that ought to be enough."

But it wasn't Dumbledore she trusted, it were the little things she remembered over the years that held her trust in him – but how could she explain those things when Ron and Harry had always been blinded by their hatred for the man?

"He used to be a Death Eater," said Ron stubbornly. "And we have no proof that he really swapped sides."

 _No proof_ , he said.

And yet, Hermione saw a hand reaching for her when she had been small, and young and defenseless.

" _Miss, maybe you should endeavour to keep your distance to Knockturn Alley if guarding yourself is such an impossible task to take on for you."_

She saw the book with the flower language and their first potions class.

" _Potter, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"_

She remembered warm and caring hands holding her and helping her to swallow the potion.

" _Slowly, Miss Granger,this is not like the books you consume. This has to be measured carefully – something that you might want to learn for your consummation of books as well if you want to get somewhere in life."_

And more than anything she remembered his trembling body in front of them, shielding them from danger and the day she had sat crying on the stairs, alone and absolutely disheartened.

" _It's a handkerchief. You use it to wipe your nose or face, Granger."_

No proof, Ron said and Hermione wondered what else could be proof, but the fact that he was caring for them even if he only showed them his hatred.

"Dumbledore trusts him," Hermione repeated. "And if we can't trust Dumbledore, we can't trust anyone."

Because explaining herself to Ron, was absolutely impossible. Neither he nor Harry would ever understand.

At least not without seeing the proof for themselves…

sSs

" _I should've shown the book to Dumbledore," said Harry. "All that time he was showing me how Voldemort was evil even when he was at school, and I had proof Snape was, too –"_

sSs

When he turned on them in sixth year, Hermione was inconsolable, and yet, still oddly sure that there had to be something else behind all that.

Unlike Harry, she simply couldn't nor wouldn't believe that the man who protected her was nothing but a Death Eater.

But Harry wouldn't listen.

"I should've shown the book to Dumbledore," said Harry. "All that time he was showing me how Voldemort was evil even when he was at school, and I had proof Snape was, too –"

"'Evil' is a strong word," said Hermione quietly.

And Harry just shook his head, obviously not believing her at all.

For him, evil was the right word to use.

At least, it was for a time.

Hermione understood that.

Hermione didn't object to that.

sSs

And yet, when they journeyed throughout England in their seventh year, she couldn't believe that she was wrong in any way or form.

In the end, she decided to at least tell the man her suspicion. If nobody believed her, maybe she could believe herself if she just found one reason to disbelieve her friends.

It was not an easy decision to make, and it was not an easy decision to decide how to find out the proof without giving them away to the enemy.

In the end, she guessed that she had at least to take a slight risk.

She had to make contact – and she had to trust that he wouldn't go to the Dark Lord and tell him where or how to find them.

So she decided to write a letter.

"We need to talk, after the war, H. G.," she wrote on a scrap of parchment and send if off with a wild owl she found.

She got her answer with the same owl, but without any Death Eaters in its wake.

"After the war, S.S.," it read and she smiled.

Whatever Harry and Ron believed, this was the final proof in her eyes – the last part of the puzzle that was one Severus Snape.

"Until after the war," she whispered and burned the parchment scrap in the fire. "Until after the war."

It was then, that Harry and Ron returned to their camp.

Hermione just smiled at them and watched the parchment burn.

This would be their first and last communication for that year.

sSs

Because 'evil' is a strong word indeed.

xXxXxXxXxXxNapxXxXxXxTimexXxXxXxXxTimexXxXxXxXxNapxXxXxXxXxXxXx

 _Er… it has a happy ending? Sort of… at least I tried! T.T I guess leaving it open as an interpretation is the best thing I could do since I can't bring myself to write more, like romance or death or whatever as an ending. So I guess, since it's ending positive, it counts as positive. *pouts*_

 _Even if it's not a clear ending, I hope you liked it anyway, Jenny._

 _Ebenbild_

 _Challenge: 'Mini-Competition'._ _2373_ _words_ _._ _Gryffindor_ _,_ _Hogwarts_ _._ _Prompts_ _:_

1) Use your partner's favourite character: Snape. 2nd Hermione  
2) Base your story around the year of your partner's favourite HP book: no fav.  
3) Use your partner's favourite song as an inspiration for the fic. OR Use your partner's Patronus (either as a Patronus or in actual animal form): _They don't know about_ _us, by One direction; blood hound._  
4) Set your fic around your partner's favourite spot in Hogsmeade OR Diagon Alley: no fav.


End file.
